The Cold Light of Mourning - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,88

glow from the streetlamp they made their way to the back door which Penny locked, and then replaced the key under the urn.

The rector tucked the notebook into his jacket and as quietly as they had come, they melted away into the night.

Twenty-nine

Should we have a cup of tea or a glass of wine?” Victoria asked.

“Wine, please!” said Penny and the rector in unison.

“Right, here you go,” said Victoria, plunking down three glasses and a cold bottle of Chardonnay.

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“I’ll start with Emyr,” said the rector over the sound of wine gurgling into glasses. “She writes and I quote: ‘A quiet, gentle boy, easily led. Eager to please and anxious to be liked. Helpful in the classroom. Comes from secure home. Much-loved only child of wealthy parents. Will feel he has position to uphold and may resent expectations placed upon him because of inheritance.’

“This was”—he turned the book so he could see the spine—“1983. Sounds a lot like him today. How perceptive Emma was,” he said admiringly. He nodded his thanks at Victoria for the wine and took a sip.

“Right. Let’s see what she had to say about Robbie Llewellyn.

“Sharp-witted. His work is careful and sustained. Solitary and studious. Would do well in profession where work is detailed and requires careful thought and planning. The law, perhaps. Suspect he is homosexual but not yet aware of it.”

“Careful thought and planning,” repeated Penny. “That would describe Meg Wynne’s murder. Emma was right, he did become a lawyer, and a good one, by all accounts. Didn’t know he was gay, though. I guess he keeps that hidden.”

She fingered the stem of her glass and looked at Victoria.

“How are you holding up? Are you okay?”

Victoria nodded. “I want to hear what she says about David.”

“David?” asked the rector.

“David Williams.”

“There’s no David, here,” said the rector, scanning the names and then turning the page. “Oh wait, this must be him. He looked up at them. “Or should that be ‘he’?” He shrugged. “Anyway, Dafydd Williams.” He read silently to himself. “Hmmm. Sounds like trouble. She describes him as ‘Very self-confident. Does not take responsibility for own actions. Blames others when things go wrong. Alarming sense of entitlement. Talks a good game but short on substance. Cannot apply himself to one task for long. Takes credit for others’ work. Makes friends easily. Demonstrates leadership qualities but always for own purpose. Will stop at nothing to get what he wants (ruthless). Home life unsettled and violent. Will likely end up in position of some power or in trouble with the law.’ ”

He closed the book and the three of them looked at one another.

“I knew it!” exclaimed Penny. “It was Williams. It had to be. And if we’re going to help Emyr, we’ll have to find a way to prove to the police that it’s that weasel Williams they want, not Emyr.”

The rector started to say something and then looked at his watch.

“Oh, good heavens! Is that the time?” he exclaimed, jumping up from the table. “Bronwyn will be wondering whatever’s become of me. I must go.” He touched Victoria on the shoulder. “You’ll keep me informed, won’t you? We’re all in this together now, aren’t we?” He looked from one to the other. “Oh, and it might be a good idea if I saw you two in church on Sunday. If there’s any forgiveness needed for our activity this evening, we’ll seek it then.”

Penny smiled at him as Victoria reached up and patted his hand.

“Thank you, Thomas,” she said.

“God bless you, my dears,” he replied. “No, don’t get up. I’ll see myself out.”

Rev. Evans felt deeply troubled but at the same time, strangely exhilarated on the short walk home. The night was calm and clear as he made his way along the deserted street. When he reached the rectory he paused for a moment, looked up at the stars, and silently thanked God for all the blessings in his life.

If he was mildly worried that his wife would be cross with him for staying out so late, he needn’t have been. He arrived to find Bronwyn waiting up for him and in a very good mood. She had had a bath and was wearing a new cappuccino-coloured nightdress with a matching dressing gown. Her ensemble showed rather more lace and cleavage than the rector was used to, and as he bent over to kiss her, he noticed that she had dabbed on a few drops of the light perfume he had given her